The Women in my Family
We have a knack for shooting. Not necessarily living things, unless the times call for such. But some of the first lines I can remember is telling my father to shoot the dog that knocked me off the porch. He did!
The next shooting I can remember is back in the days of sun worshipping with baby oil. I was about 5 at the time and a wielded a Red Ryder B.B. Gun. One of the neighbors called me a baby. Hmmmph! I lived in the country, still do, and the houses weren't so close you could pass toilet paper to a neighbor in need through an open window. My neighbors house was a good 75 yards away. I grabbed my gun. Cocked it, turned off the safety, aimed and pulled the trigger. A few seconds go by and Neicy starts screaming. OWWWW!!! She shot me. That little turd actually shot me. A few seconds later, I was screaming from the belt that my father wielded. Lesson learned, never point a gun at a person!
The third one I can remember is a call in the middle of the night from my paternal grandmother. "Tell your daddy to get his butt over here, now." This was several years after my grandfather had passed away. After my father returned home with his sawed off 4/10 we asked what had happened. Someone was after memaw's chickens and she blindly shot into the dark and got the bandit. It was not a fatal wound, but the theif was caught, red bellied. The police followed the blood trail to the outlaws whereabouts and cuffed him up. Nothing happened to my grandmother, because in Texas, after dark, you can do whatever it takes to protect your property. The only thing that was said was "Put that gun away and say you used something else."
The neighborhood where my parents live is full of dogs that are not contained in any fashion. No fence, no leash, no chain, nothing. They are in very poor health, the majority of them have mange and many other canine diseases. My husband and I were up there with our children several years ago and my sister's oldest child comes running in the house. Grabs a Benjamin pellet rifle by the back door and heads back out the door. All the adults start running towards the door questioning what's going on. One of the neighbors has a pit bull that is running loose and my neice was getting ready to take care of it.
So you see, it's not just a cruel past time. With us, it's hereditary. Welcome to Redneckville.
The next shooting I can remember is back in the days of sun worshipping with baby oil. I was about 5 at the time and a wielded a Red Ryder B.B. Gun. One of the neighbors called me a baby. Hmmmph! I lived in the country, still do, and the houses weren't so close you could pass toilet paper to a neighbor in need through an open window. My neighbors house was a good 75 yards away. I grabbed my gun. Cocked it, turned off the safety, aimed and pulled the trigger. A few seconds go by and Neicy starts screaming. OWWWW!!! She shot me. That little turd actually shot me. A few seconds later, I was screaming from the belt that my father wielded. Lesson learned, never point a gun at a person!
The third one I can remember is a call in the middle of the night from my paternal grandmother. "Tell your daddy to get his butt over here, now." This was several years after my grandfather had passed away. After my father returned home with his sawed off 4/10 we asked what had happened. Someone was after memaw's chickens and she blindly shot into the dark and got the bandit. It was not a fatal wound, but the theif was caught, red bellied. The police followed the blood trail to the outlaws whereabouts and cuffed him up. Nothing happened to my grandmother, because in Texas, after dark, you can do whatever it takes to protect your property. The only thing that was said was "Put that gun away and say you used something else."
The neighborhood where my parents live is full of dogs that are not contained in any fashion. No fence, no leash, no chain, nothing. They are in very poor health, the majority of them have mange and many other canine diseases. My husband and I were up there with our children several years ago and my sister's oldest child comes running in the house. Grabs a Benjamin pellet rifle by the back door and heads back out the door. All the adults start running towards the door questioning what's going on. One of the neighbors has a pit bull that is running loose and my neice was getting ready to take care of it.
So you see, it's not just a cruel past time. With us, it's hereditary. Welcome to Redneckville.
posted by AmyLee at 4:56 AM
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